The Other OneThe toxic relationship
I normally have with gay discos
Has been abundantly documented elsewhere.
That night however,
I was experimenting
With some new martial art and meditative practices.
The results surprised and pleased me.
I met a group of three friends
On one of their excursions
To push the boundaries of the scene and of themselves.
The third one was friendly, flirty, and fun.
I enjoyed chatting dancing and flirting with him,
The second one
Was on stage wearing a butt-floss G-String.
He had a hot body that's exactly my type,
Beautiful eyes, and an engaging smile.
I announced to the three,
Pointing to the second one,
"I'll write a poem about him tonight."
But no, it was not he who stuck in my mind,
Who inspired me to write.
It was The Other One.
The Other One was sensitive and sensible.
I remember being sensitive and sensible.
I like sensitive and sensible.
The Other One and I spoke of many things.
The details were different
But the stories he told were well known to me.
How can a person:
be a good and supportive friend?
steer a friend around danger
without taking improper control?
settle into being "just friends" when one craves more?
be one's self
when who that might be is far from clear?
to push past limits
without crashing and burning?
Questions that only the rarest of the
Sensitive and sensible
Are able to ask explicitly.
To compete for attention
With his friend the dancer
The Other One "shaves down there."
To push his limits,
He showed me.
To push his limits
He dirty-danced with me in front of everyone.
If he's as much like me as I suspect,
He probably had gut wrenching aftershocks
From those pushes.
He stuck in my mind.
He made quite an impression.
The Other One.
|20 February 2004|
|by Bill Cattey|